


Ms. Foster and the Family

by Artemis_Day



Series: Ms. Foster series [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Family Reunion, Gen, Jane is jealous, Loki is jealous, except they totally aren't, nope not one bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 16:23:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3575997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Day/pseuds/Artemis_Day
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane thought that she could disengage herself from the insanity of Loki's life, and then she met his family. It's not over yet, though, as Jane is in for a family reunion of her own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ms. Foster and the Family

**Author's Note:**

> So sorry this came out almost a month later than I promised. All I can say is that real life threw me for a loop and February wound up being one of the most difficult months of my life. Thankfully it's over now, and we have the next installment of the Ms. Foster series ready to go, featuring (if you've been paying attention to the subplot about Jane's long lost foster brother) the moment you've been waiting for.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Oh, my dear girl, you have no idea how happy I am to meet you!”

Even as it was happening, the whole thing was as dreamlike to Jane as if she had never gotten out of bed this morning.  One week ago, she spent her Saturday in bed with a cheesy action movie marathon and a container of sesame chicken in her lap.  Yesterday, she’d been up until two making lesson plans for the coming month, only to fall asleep on the couch with her shoes still on.  Today, she was standing outside a _castle_ with ungodly expensive jewelry in her pocket, and the mother of the man she was unwittingly dating had her in a tight embrace, like she was one of her own. 

If there was ever a point where one had to just throw their hands up and give in to the madness, this was probably it.  Jane would fight it to her dying breath anyway.

 “Oh, you must forgive me, dear, for my forwardness,” Mrs. Odinson said upon letting her go. 

Jane applied her weight to one foot; the ground was smoother than she recalled a moment ago.  She heard a door, closed by a dark skinned man with golden eyes and a crisp suit only slightly less fancy than Loki’s typical fare.  He nodded at Jane as she gawked.

 _When_ exactly had they gotten into the house?

Had she really been so stupefied that she let Mrs. Odinson bring her inside without realizing?

 _‘Well, Jane, you’re in now.  Might as well press on,_ ’ said that part of Jane that was ready to give in.  It was louder and stronger than she wanted it to be and reminded her far too much of herself as a teenager.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Jane said with an awkward rub of her shoulder (there was one tic she hadn’t needed Darcy to tell her about; Don did years ago). 

“But I must,” Mrs. Odinson said.  “I may have had a few too many drinks today, and you see, you are the first woman my son has taken such a strong fancy to in almost eight years.  I didn’t expect to meet you so soon, and I’m afraid I may have forgotten myself, so please forgive me.”

Jane could indeed see an empty wine glass held between Ms. Odinson’s fingers.  She didn’t bother to wonder just how many times that glass had been refilled since the party started.  That was none of her business.

Her head snapped to one side.

“Well, actually, I don’t know if Lo- if Mr. Odinson likes me as much as you think.”  The dark skinned man—the butler if Jane was not mistaken—slid the coat off Jane’s arms and carried it to the cloak room.  “I mean, the only reason we went out was—“

“I know the whole story, dear,” said Mrs. Odinson.  “You’re grievously misjudging my grandchildren if you think I wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, I should really stop doing that…”

Resigned, she allowed Mrs. Odinson to walk her to the parlor, filled with guests even richer looking than those people at the restaurant.  Jane was pretty sure she saw a couple of state politicians and a man who bore an uncanny resemblance to the king of Sweden among them.  She had to work hard not to stare, and keep her eyes on Mrs. Odinson as she introduced herself as Frigga (‘I prefer my given name, if you don’t mind.’) and reiterated how thrilled she was to finally meet Jane after hearing so many good things about her.

“Well, that’s uh… that’s very nice of you to say.” Jane had been given a drink of something that appeared to be champagne, but regardless had to have come from a bottle that she’d have to sell all her belongings and her soul to afford.  “But I think the kids may have embellished the story a bit.”

“And why is that?”

There was mischief in Frigga’s expression that Jane would know anywhere.  Though she didn’t elaborate (she seemed to prefer making Jane sweat), her meaning was obvious once Jane got her thoughts back on track and had to steer them in this new direction she could not have been less prepared for.

“I-I just mean that I don’t think Mr. Odinson would be so interested in me if it wasn’t for them pushing him.  That’s not to say he hasn’t been polite or anything.”

 _‘It’s not to say that he_ has _been either,’_ she thought.

Frigga hummed.  She sipped from her newly refilled glass and seemed to be in a state of contemplation, one lasting long enough that Jane almost thought she could get up and walk to the door if she could just keep from making a sound.

“Tell me, Ms. Foster, do you know how many other women my grandchildren have scouted out for my son?”

Jane furrowed her brow.  Didn’t Loki say something about that once before?  He _had_ , hadn’t he?

“Oh yeah,” Jane said.  “Lok- Mr. Odinson told me that they tried to set him up with an employee, but she was already engaged.”

Frigga nodded.  “Yes, that was Lana, a really lovely girl if I remember correctly, but entirely incompatible with Loki.  I trust he mentioned that her fiancée turned out to _also_ be a very lovely girl?”

Jane started to nod.  Then she did a double take.  No, she hadn’t heard _that_ part of the story.

 “Yes, as intelligent as my grandchildren are, there is still much they have to learn about the way of the world, and of what adult relationships truly entail.”  Frigga’s eyes flicked to Jane.  They were filled with strength and warmth, and it reminded Jane of her own mother.  “Thankfully, they have chosen someone of a compatible orientation this time.”

“Yeah, good for them,” Jane said.

“In fact, I think I would have chosen you, too, were it up to me.”

“Yeah, I- wait, what?”

“There you two are!”  Frigga left the couch and Jane to throw her arms around a tall, blonde headed man and a dark haired woman in turn.  Both were attractive, slightly damp, and most likely those two swimmers Jane had spotted earlier.  “And here I thought I wouldn’t see you at all today.”

“Forgive me, Mother,” the man said.  He placed his arm around the woman’s shoulder, tilting his head slightly towards hers.  “Sif couldn’t take losing our game of pool volleyball and demanded a rematch.”

“Oh, Thor, you mean you finally beat her?” asked Frigga.

The man called Thor made a face, and Jane thought she could see one eye twitch and a few veins pop up.

“It should not be a surprise, considering our first game of volleyball ended in a tie.”

“Yes, yes, of course it did, dear,” Frigga said.  She looked away from her crestfallen son to Jane.  “Now, I’d like you both to meet someone very special.  Thor, Sif, this is Jane Foster, the one Hela and Jormungandr were telling us about.  Jane, this is my oldest son, Thor, and my daughter-in-law, Sif.”

Jane knew this was the part where she was supposed put on a good face and greet the rest of Loki’s family like a normal person who was supposed to be there.  Getting up and doing it was another story all together, and Jane didn’t think her feet were in a place to obey her even if she had wanted to move them.  She breathed a sigh of relief when the tension was pre-emptively averted by Thor.

“A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Foster,” he said.  Unlike Loki, he did kiss her hand.  “I’ve heard nothing but good things about you from my niece and nephews.”

“That’s so sweet of you,” Jane said with a grin, but in a fraction of a second, she turned deadly serious.  “What kind of things?”

Though Thor was taken aback, Frigga intercepted once more, having retrieved one more glass of wine that just about matched the color of her cheeks.

“Jane was hoping to speak to Loki about an urgent matter- oh, was it urgent, Jane?  I’m afraid I can’t remember what you said.”

“I hope you’re not drinking too much wine again, Mother,” said Thor.

“Oh, darling, I never drink too much.”

“Well, it really wasn’t that important,” Jane said over their small talk.  “I could just wait until Monday to talk to the kids.  In the meantime-“

“But you can’t go now, Jane!”  Frigga latched onto her arm.  She an impossibly firm grip that Jane couldn’t break, hard as she tried.  Not bad for a woman theoretically in her sixties.  “We haven’t sat down to dinner, and you still have to meet Odin.  Now, where did that man get off to?”

Frigga scanned the crowds of the rich and the famous for the man Jane could only assume gave Loki his name.  She had wondered about his parents at least a few times since that fateful parent teacher conference.  Before now, it had mainly been in the context of _‘What kind of screwed up childhood did this guy have to grow up to be like this?’_ Now that she had met them, she decided that he was just born this way.   That aside, it didn’t escape her notice that Thor and Frigga bore little physical resemblance to Loki or his kids.  He had to be the spitting image of his father, or else she might think he was adopted.  Were it not a rude and intrusive thing to ask about, Jane might have said something.  She settled for scouting out every tall, dark haired older man in the room and waiting for one of them to come over.

A man did issue forth from the sea of wealth and good taste, and out of everyone Jane had seen so far (yes, even that maybe Swedish king), he was by far the classiest person in the whole party.

It had a lot to do with his posture, more than it did his clothes.  While nice and expensive looking, his three piece suit didn’t set him apart from the other suit and tie wearing men the way his walk did.  He looked like the kind of man everyone else would defer to, like a king or an emperor or something along those lines.  Even though he was quite obviously missing an eye—and that eyepatch looked like the same material as his suit—the effect was the same.  She’d been wrong about him and Loki looking alike, but Jane could already tell they were going to act alike.

“And where on earth have you been all this time?” asked Frigga, hands on her hips. 

The man responded in a language Jane didn’t understand; most likely Norwegian if Loki’s comment about the Norse meant anything.  Whatever he said, Frigga was rolling her eyes. 

“Come on, don’t make a fuss.  Introduce yourself to Jane Foster.  It’s high time we met her, don’t you agree?”

She pulled Odin into the circle.  He grumbled under his breath, but didn’t argue.  Appraising Jane with his one good eye, his frown deepened into something that wasn’t quite rude, but wasn’t quite pleasant either. 

“You’re the schoolteacher,” he said.  He made it sound like teaching involved turning tricks on the corner and selling drugs. 

 “Er- yes, I am a teacher,” she said.  “It’s very nice to meet you, sir.”

He grumbled and walked by her, towards a waiter bearing a plate of cheeses and grapes.  Retrieving a few of the grapes, he joined a group of men at one of the tables near the double doors leading to the yard.  He laughed with them at whatever joke had been made about all the little people they stepped on to make themselves richer.

Frigga shook her head.

“I swear, that man sometimes…” she turned to Jane.  “I am so sorry, dear, I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

“He’s suspicious of her,” said Sif.  Jane gave her a look, and received an apologetic stare right back.  “I don’t mean to imply that he should be.  He acted much the same when I started dating Thor.”

“And you would think after that he’d learn some manners,” said Frigga. Then she looked at her son.  “Will you two show Jane around while I go and have a word with him?”

Sif opened her mouth, and something told Jane that what she wanted to say was important, but Thor beat her to the punch.

“Certainly, Mother.  We’d be happy to.”

He leaned for Frigga to press a kiss onto his cheek.  She saw herself out to the yard, where Odin and those friends of his had departed mere moments ago.  The backyard boasted a greater crowd than the living room if that were possible.  She took three steps into the fray, and Jane could no longer see her.

“Tell me, Jane,” Thor said, drawing attention back to him.  He seemed oblivious to the urgent look his wife levied at him.  “Have you seen the pool or the tennis courts?  Loki keeps them immaculate, and I never thought I would enjoy the game so much“

“I’m actually not much of a tennis person,” Jane said, which was only kind of a lie.  She’d never played it before.  “I don’t have a swimsuit handy either.  Could you just tell me where I can find Loki or one of the kids?”

“The last time I saw my brother, he was downstairs at the bar with Tony Stark.  The children will be in their room down that corridor there.  I think this party might be a bit too boring and grown up for them.”  Thor gave a laugh and patted Sif’s shoulder.  “It makes me think what we’ll ever do when we have kids.  What do you think, love?”

Sif didn’t answer.  She had her lips puckered like she was sucking a particularly sour lemon.

 “Okay, well, I just wanted to talk to them really fast.  Sorry to cut this short,” said Jane.

“No problem,” said Sif, cutting off Thor’s objection.  She pulled him off in the opposite direction.  “Thor and I wanted a moment alone anyway.”

“We did?”

With a final helpless glance at Jane, he vanished with his wife as his parents had before him.  Alone in a crowd just barley thinned, Jane had an unobstructed path to the front door and sweet reality.  Had she her jacket—and were it not weighed down with priceless diamonds—she might’ve seized the opportunity.  The last thing she wanted to do was have to ask that Heimdall guy where the coats were kept.

 _‘You could just keep the bracelet,’_ said the teenage side of her. _‘That would save you a major headache.  Plus, it looks_ great _on you.’_

 _‘Shut up,’_ Jane told it.

“Ms. Foster!”

A throaty laugh preceded the shout of her name, as a heavyset man and woman charged through the crowd.  They were ignorant of the glares they received as the husband made one man drop his plate, and the wife pushed another into his female companion.  She was in the lead, her eyes dulled from alcohol intake and caked with so much blue eye shadow that it would make a drag queen look modest.

“Mr. and Mrs. Hayer!” Jane said.  She glanced again at that front door, but crowd had shifted and she could no longer see it.  “Wow, I… didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I could say the same for you,” said Mrs. Hayer.  Then she hiccupped.  “You’re a little dressed down for the evening, dear.”

“Now, Henrietta, be nice,” said Mr. Hayer, not looking anyway near his stumbling wife.  From the smell of his breath as he stood a little too close to Jane, he wasn’t much more sober than she was.  “Don’t forget she lives on a teacher’s salary.  She’s doing the best she can with what she has.”

He winked at her, and though she hadn’t had a single drink tonight, she was the one feeling nauseous.

“Actually, I left my evening dress at home with my diamond necklace,” she said.  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I needed to go and speak to Mr. Odinson.”

“Oh, when you see him, could you ask him to inform the chef that Harvey isn’t fond of green beans or red sauces?”

“Sure, no problem.”

“And his soup must be at exactly seventy three degrees Fahrenheit.  And he only likes cream of mushroom!”

“Uh-huh…”

“It’s so nice that our son has become friends with Loki Odinson’s children, isn’t it, Harvey?”

“Yes, that boy is a chip off the old block.  Look at him, getting connections before he’s even out of grade school.”

The proud parents’ gushing was soon drowned out by the general flow of conversation.  It came at Jane from all directions, making it impossible to distinguish any one person from another.  This was why Jane hated parties—or at least it made her list of reasons.  She continued on away from the noise, through a wide archway that fed into a hall with high ceilings and family pictures lining both walls.  They alternated with paintings and sculptures, some of which she recognized from a catalog Jormungandr read in class.  Eventually, all those photos and decorations became all that surrounded her from every end.  All sound beyond her footsteps she was no longer sensitive to, save for one big explosion that shook the ground under her feet.

“YOU’RE WHAT?!”

**

Harvey Hayer Jr. was buried in a sloppy mess of bed sheets and pillow cases. Jane only knew it was him from the feet sticking out of the pile.  Harvey’s black and green sneakers where untied and scuffed with dirt.  He used the laundry as a shield, a meager barrier against the rage of another child.  Such should be all but impotent, even to other small children who lacked the defenses of an adult, but that was Fenrir for you.  Like his siblings, he defied all conventions.

“I said fold my shirts _long_ ways first, not fat ways!  Are you getting stupider, Hayer?  It sure seems like it.”

“I-I’m sorry, Lord Fenrir.”  The pile shivered and shook as Harvey poked his head out.  A sock sat unnoticed over one of his eyes.  “I promise I’ll fold them right next time.”

A short, tense pause followed, until Fenrir snatched Harvey up by the collar.  He pulled the much heavier boy to his feet. 

“You bet you are,” Fenrir snarled.  “You’re going to fold each and every shirt, sheet, and sock again, and you’re going to do it exactly the way I tell you to.  You hear me, Hayer?  You are not leaving this room until every scrap of cloth is off this floor and in those drawers.  Do you comprehend that, you blubber faced little-”

At the sight of Jane standing in the doorway, Fenrir paused.  They stared at each other for several seconds marked by the ticking of the cartoonish blue and orange wall clock.  Then Fenrir pulled Harvey into a hug and patted him roughly on the head.

“Wonderful, _wonderful_ boy,” he said.  “You’re just so helpful and I am so happy that we’re friends now.  Isn’t it great being friends, Hayer?”

Harvey whimpered a yes, flinching every time Fenrir’s hand came up to rest on top of his head. 

Jane watched the display, one eyebrow arched high over her forehead, close to invisible.  She crossed her arms over her chest.  In her experience, that one silent gesture could make her point better than words ever could, and Fenrir was no exception.  Reluctantly, he released Harvey, who scooted away in a rush, tripping over his shoes to land on his butt.  He gazed up at her with wide, wobbling eyes.  She’d seen that look before, when he was trying to appear innocent and get out of trouble.  This was the first time it ever looked real.

“Harvey, go find your parents,” Jane said.

“Th-thank you, M-Ms. Foster.”

He ran from the room on all fours, unable to pick himself up until he was well out of view.  His absence left Fenrir alone at the mercy of his teacher.  From the sweat caking his brow, this was probably not a scenario he was used to.

“I-In my defense,” he said weakly, “this could be really good for Harvey.”

“Fenrir.”

“No really!  He does a little work, it builds character.”

“Fenrir.”

“If you look at it that way, I’m doing him a favor.”

“Fenrir, _you do not deal with bullies by enslaving them!”_

Fenrir shrunk back.  It gave Jane a weird sort of satisfaction that she could make him back down just by yelling.

“W-well, you know,” Fenrir said.  He seemed to be thinking fast.  “I don’t think you’ve ever had to say anything like that to a student before, have you?  In fact, I may have just given you enough funny teacher stories to sustain your whole career.  Just think about how popular you’re going to be with your colleagues, Ms. Foster!”

Jane pressed a hand to her forehead, trying in vain to stave off the throbbing ache.  She unleashed a sigh that sucked all the air from her lungs until they hurt.  Fenrir fidgeted.

“You’re not going to make me write lines again, are you?”

Jane shot him another glare, silencing him hopefully for the rest of the day.  She heard shuffling, followed by the click of a door being opened. 

“Fenrir, would you shut up in there?  I’m trying to re- MS. FOSTER!”

Hela’s small body collided with the back of Jane’s legs.  She yelped and grabbed the nearest heavy object.  That wound up being Fenrir’s bookcase, which climbed all the way up to the ceiling and came complete with a rolling ladder specially made for a child’s stubby legs.  Jane held to it fast, keeping her balance as Hela clung to one of her legs.

“I didn’t know you were coming, Ms. Foster,” said Hela.  “I wanted to invite you properly, but then Dad said we needed to give you some breathing room first.”

“He really said that?”  If Jane went through her mental assessment of Loki Odinson as she thus far knew him, that didn’t jive at all with her perceptions.  She’d be more likely to believe he’d done some kind of far off mind manipulation to make her come here; paying to have subliminal messages inserted into her TV set or something.

“I’m glad you made it anyway, even if this party did turn out to be boring.”

“It’s because we let Grandpa Odin invite a bunch of his friends.” 

Jane glanced up, following Jormungandr’s voice to the enormous library he had just exited.  He joined them with a grin that rivaled his sister’s.  He didn’t grab Jane’s other leg, but it wouldn’t have surprised her if he had.

“Hello, Jormungandr,” she said.

He shyly waved.

“Grandpa is a rich old guy from Europe,” Fenrir shouted.  He looked much too happy to no longer be the center of attention.  “He only makes friends with other rich old guys from Europe.  Once they come around, you know the fun is over.  Actually, you could say the same thing about Grandpa himself a lot of the time.”

“Fenrir, don’t talk about Grandpa like that!” Hela cried.

“Well, it’s true,” Fenrir said, shrugging.  “He’s only ever fun when him and Dad aren’t fighting, or when it’s Christmas and he reads us The Grinch.”

“You should come by next year for that, Ms. Foster,” said Jormungandr.  “Grandpa tells The Grinch better than anyone.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Jane said under her breath.  If her brief encounter with the man himself told her anything, it was that he’d have an easy time relating to that kind of character.

“We should let Dad know that you’re here.  He’ll want to see you,” said Hela.  Though she’d let go of Jane, she still hovered close to her.

“I’ll get him!” said Jormungandr.  He raced out of the room like a bullet. If Jane had wanted to stop him, she’d never have a chance.

Good thing she didn’t.  She had come to the conclusion that she wasn’t going to get anywhere talking to the kids.  If one of them didn’t require a stern lecture from an authority figure about how to handle conflicts maturely, the other two were on sugar rushes that left them unreachable.  That teenaged girl within Jane alternated between cooing over what good little children they were and demanding that she stop daydreaming and let Hela take her to the couch.  Fenrir hadn’t left his bed and had buried his nose in a book.  They’d be finishing that little talk of theirs later. 

Jane sunk into the plushy cushions and rested her head on the hard back wall, repeating to herself that she was only waiting long enough for Loki to come so she could return the bracelet.  The teenager in her could whine and stamp her foot all she wanted.  Grown up Jane would not be moved.

Hela curled up beside her, flipping through the book she’d brought in from her bedroom.  Jane cast a glance at the pages, her curiosity piqued.  Instead of college level words in tiny font, they were covered in black and white comic images.  One had a group of well-groomed boys posing together in school uniforms.  Another showed a different boy in frumpy with an effeminate face who looked about as confused as Jane felt.  The difference was that the characters in this story probably figured out what was going on eventually.  Jane just became more lost as she read on.  This book appeared to have been printed backwards.

“Do you like manga, Ms. Foster?”

Hela was watching her, something Jane had failed to notice before now.  She kept her book open to that page and her hand smoothed over the paper, covering the pictures.

“Manga?” Jane repeated the foreign word.  “I don’t know what that is, sorry.”

A flash of disappointment passed Hela’s features, but it was quickly replaced with her characteristic brightness. 

“That’s okay, Ms. Foster.  Dad didn’t know what it was either.  Manga is the word for comics in Japan.  I’ve been reading them for years, ever since Dad took us to Tokyo.”

“Now she fills her entire closet with girl comics,” Fenrir shouted from the bed.

Hela’s face turned red.  “For the last time, it’s called _shojo manga_!”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Hela grumbled and growled under her breath about ‘stupid annoying boys.’  She flipped the book shut revealing to Jane a front cover that should have been the back.  It featured two of the characters she saw in the pictures, one of them the frumpy boy, who looked decidedly less frumpy here.

“So what’s the story about?” Jane asked.

A sudden came over Hela.  Her muscles tensed, her eyes alight with the deepest kind of mischief.  From across the room, Fenrir let out a low whistle.

“Now you’ve done it,” he said.

Hela bolted out of the room, so fast that Jane couldn’t process that she’d gone until long after she returned.  It was to Jane’s complete and total surprise that she came armed with _seventeen_ identical volumes to the one she’d left behind.  She arranged them in to next stacks on the floor next to the couch and jumped back up, grabbing the first book.  She turned to page one.

“Okay, so first of all, this is Haruhi.  She’s a poor kid who goes to a private school called Ouran Academy on a scholarship, and then one day, she’s looking for a place to do her homework, and then…”

**

If Loki had his way, this party never would have happened in the first place.  He didn’t care all that much for large social gathering and he liked hosting them even less.  Unless it was the triplets’ birthday, he’d much rather spend the day alone, with his children, or with a few close friends.  It all depended on his mood.  Today, he would’ve liked to get some work done and then read in his private study while Heimdall entertained the children.  Then maybe he’d arrange those interviews with the new bodyguards and call Coulson to get an update on Jane’s status (after that first paparazzi scare, he was tempted to hire a second guard for her, but for now, he’d put his trust in Coulson’s skills).  Following a light dinner, he would turn in early and be ready for a busy day at the office the next morning. 

Instead, he was down in his newly remodeled basement bar, running his finger around the rim of a lukewarm daiquiri, while Thor threw back his third of the evening.  The big oaf smashed the glass down and cracked the bar top, or he would have if Loki hadn’t made the bartender switch to plastic tankards as soon as Thor stumbled down the stairs looking like he’d run through Hell.  He had stammered his way through a story Loki knew the ending of the moment he got here.

So Sif had finally told him.  That was fast.  Loki thought she would wait until at least after dinner.

“I keep thinking,” Thor said, his words only mildly slurred after so much drink.

“That must be exhausting for you,” said Loki.

“What if I can’t do this?  I mean, I’ve seen you with your children, and you’re wonderful with them, but I don’t know if I can do so well.  What if I’m a terrible father?”

“You couldn’t possibly do worse than the man we were saddled with,” Loki said. 

At no point in the ensuing silence did Thor bristle or yell or punch Loki in the face for dishonoring Odin or have any reaction to what he said at all.  This was more serious than Loki thought

“What if I do something wrong one day and the child gets hurt?”  Thor asked no one.  The bartender returned with another glass, but Loki sent him off.  No need to let Thor relive his college days and show up to the dinner table drunk.  “What if the child is born with debilitating illnesses?  What if there are complications and Sif dies?”  Thor grabbed Loki by the arms and pulled him close, his eyes wide with urgency.  “Loki… what if the child doesn’t like me?”

One of Thor’s many ex-girlfriends used to refer to him as ‘puppy dog like’.  Loki had never understood what she meant until now, and he wished he could’ve stayed ignorant to that one.

“Thor, you shouldn’t let yourself give in to fear.”  Loki took Thor’s meaty fingers in his thinner ones and lifted them as one off of his person.  “You will not harm your child, you know Sif is strong enough to handle giving birth, and as for the child not liking you, just give them a lot of expensive gifts like you do my children, and I’m sure you will be fine.”

Thor wiped the tears from his eyes, all of Loki’s sarcasm flying over his head to the moon.

“Thank you, brother.  I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Just be sure to leave a tip for Nikola.”

Loki nodded to the bartender, who had deftly replaced his warm drink with a cold one long before Loki thought to ask.  This man was getting a raise next month.  As people filed in and out of the bar searching for liquid sustenance, another happy couple descended the staircase and watched from the other end of the bar Loki’s backhanded pep talk to the agitated Thor.

“Boy would I not want to be in his shoes right now,” said Tony, cracking a cheeky grin.

Pepper looked down and played with her unused coaster.  She hadn’t had a drop of alcohol tonight for some reason.

“What, you mean having baby?” she asked.

“I’m talking more about the whole ‘unprepared for fatherhood holy crap somebody save me’ deal Thor has going on.  If it were me becoming a dad for the first time, I would be prepared for it and I would not freak out in the slightest.”

He spun another ice cube into his drink and thought nothing of the sigh Pepper heaved other than that she had amazing lung capacity.  “I’m really glad to hear that, Tony, because I have some very good news.”

Tony turned his head to survey his wife, and for the first time saw that she was glowing.  His face fell, as did his glass.

**

Thor had taken to leaning heavily on Loki’s left shoulder, which would have been bad enough without a puce colored Tony Stark occupying the right.

“What if I end up like _my_ father?” he asked the same nothing Thor had taken up with.

“What if I fail to teach them the way of the world?” asked Thor.

“What if I decided one day to send them to an overseas boarding school and then never come home to see them on Christmas?”

“What if we have another child and they grow up and engage in sibling rivalry?”

“What if I die before he can get to know me and then he spends his life hating me for leaving him and Pepper alone?”

“What if it’s a girl and one day an unworthy, foolish cur comes asking for her hand?”

“What if I killed you both and hid your bodies in the floorboards?” Loki asked loudly, so that a pair of elderly partygoers in the near vicinity scurried away as if in fear that they would be next.  It still didn’t get Loki the use of his arms back.

“What if Pepper’s mom decides I’m as worthless a father as I am a son-in-law?”

“What if instead I have a boy and I _still_ lose him to some unworthy cur?”

“What if one day they ask me where babies come from?”

“What if they wish to know how Sif and I first met, and I have to tell them all about how we-”

“Hey, Dad!”

Loki didn’t think he’d ever heard two grown men scream so loud and so shrill before in his life.  If this was how they would react every time the ‘D’ word was uttered in their presence, Sif and Pepper were in trouble.

It’s utterer, one Jormungandr Lokison, skidded to a halt the polished floor on his bare feet.  Loki bit back a groan.  No matter how many times he told him to wear shoes in the house, that boy refused to listen. 

“What is it, son?” he asked, as relaxed as if there weren’t two grown men clutching him like he was their security blanket.  “You know you’re not allowed down here.” 

“I know.  I’m sorry to bother you, but Ms. Foster is here and she said she wanted to see you right away.”

“Then we shan’t keep her waiting!  Forgive me, gentlemen, but I must depart.” 

Loki stood up, dragging Thor and Tony up where they slid off his slim body to the floor.  There they rested, eternally questioning their parental capabilities as they would for the next nine months.  Loki would leave that for their wives to deal with as he followed Jormungandr up to the ground floor.

**  
“-so now Haruhi has to kiss this girl who won the contest, but Tamaki gets upset because he likes Haruhi and he hasn’t figured it out yet, but when he tries to stop her, he trips and he pushes Haruhi into the girl by accident, and so the kiss happens anyway!  Tamaki does that sort of thing a lot because even though he’s the male lead, he’s also around for comic relief, and he is really funny.”  Hela snapped the book shut and grabbed the next one off the pile.  “Then in volume two-”

“Hela?  Not that this isn’t an interesting story, but I really do need to see your father.  Do you know when Jormungandr will be back with him?”

“Depends on how busy Dad is,” said Fenrir, making Jane jump.  He’d been quiet for so long that Jane had almost forgotten this was still his room they were in.  “You could be looking at another three hours at least.”

“Daddy wouldn’t take that long if he knows Ms. Foster is waiting!” Hela shouted at him, only to sit back with a look of apprehension, and she whispered: “Would he?”

He would not, as Jane discovered when the man in question quite suddenly appeared in the doorway.  Jormungandr tailed him, the small boy reflecting Hela’s glee with a brilliant beam of his own.  Fenrir, meanwhile, mirrored the straight backed continence and general aloofness of his father; it didn’t look half as convincing on the latter as it did the former. 

“Good afternoon, Ms. Foster,” Loki said with just the barest hint of a smile.  “Fancy meeting you here.”

This was the most casual Jane had ever seen him.  His suit jacket was off and the first two buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a long trail of pale white neck and the top of his collar.  His hair wasn’t slicked back for a change and hung loosely around his face over the ears.  Seeing him now, Jane was torn over which was a better look on him.  It was becoming abundantly clear that this was a man who could pull off pretty much anything.  The teenager in her was a pathetic puddle of goo at this point.  The adult in her was beginning to understand how screwed she was.

“I’m sorry to have interrupted your party,” she said, standing.

“Believe me, it’s no trouble at all.”  From up close there were purple bags under his eyes, and his posture was as lax as his choice of wardrobe.  Whatever he’d been doing before now, it must have been excruciatingly painful.

“Indeed it was.”

“What?”  Jane blinked and looked around.  The giggles of Hela and Jormungandr tinkled in the air.  Loki smirked.

“I see you are one to voice your thoughts aloud without realizing.”

Jane opened her mouth, like a fish gaping for food.  She was most certainly _not_ one to do that, at least not as fair as she knew.  If she was, she and Darcy would be having a serious discussion tomorrow, right after she finished that talk with Fenrir.  Her mental list of future scolding prepared, Jane returned to the matter at hand, drawing herself into that strictly professional guise that worked on everyone except the man in front of her. 

“We’ll just leave you two alone now,” said Hela, winding one arm around Fenrir’s left side.

“You two be nice!” said Jormungandr.  He took Fenrir’s other side.

“Hey, wait a minute, _this is my room!”_ Fenrir shouted as they dragged him off.

Now they were alone, alone in Loki’s castle-house, with only one exit that he was blocking her from.  He looked quite comfortable where he was, like he had no intention of moving.  She added a third memo to her list: find out if there was a way she could reasonably give all three kids detention for this without looking petty.  After a second thought, she moved that to the very top.

Loki was staring at her, all traces of fatigue gone from him, and for the life of her she couldn’t figure out what he was thinking. 

“Did you like the bracelet?”

That he was upfront about it didn’t surprise Jane.  It was more how quickly and easily he’d zeroed in on the issue, as if he could read minds and hers was an open book.

“That’s what I wanted to talk about,” Jane said.  She straightened her spine.  At her full height she just about reached his chin.  “I had told the kids that I wouldn’t be accepting expensive gifts from them.”

“Then you will no doubt be please to find they were only delivering the bracelet.  It was from me.”

“Like the necklace was from you?”

“No, no, it really was all my doing this time.”  Loki drew behind his back.  “I felt that after a few days of no contact following our date, I should send you a token of affection.  Something simple that nevertheless makes a grand statement.”

“A necklace worth thousands of dollars is what you call simple?” Jane asked, before reminding herself once again that she was literally in a castle right now.

His lips parted in a wide, toothy grin.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said.  “If that is what a first date warrants, just what will I give you for our anniversary?”

Jane found herself wanting to burst out laughing, roll her eyes until they fell out, and lose her lunch all at the same time.  She settled for the first one, and if he didn’t like it, he’d have to stop making that surly pickle face at her, because that was just making it funnier. 

“Anniversary.  Right,” Jane said.  “You sure like to think ahead, don’t you?”

“I’ve made the majority of my fortune doing precisely that.” 

He turned and walked out of the room.  The action was so abrupt that Jane might have released another flurry of uncontrollable laughter were her chest not burning from the first time.  She followed him out, having no more reason to stay alone in Fenrir’s bedroom.  She glanced down both ends of the hallway, the one that led to the party and the one that went further into the abyss (yet somehow also had a lot of noise feeding in from it).  Loki was nowhere to be found.  Even his shadow had slipped away in the minimal time it took Jane to cross from the couch to the door. 

Curse that man and his legs.

Jane reentered the living space, which was even more densely populated than she remembered.  She squeezed by a woman with an enormous rear end and a wine drinking man with a handlebar mustache, and she wondered how that could be possible when she was in a castle (she was never going to get over that).  There had to be over a thousand people here. 

Though she knew she was (hopefully) exaggerating, the guests were not quite as loud as they could have been, much to her relief.  Fine breeding was good for something.  They were so quiet that Jane had no trouble picking out her poppy ringtone from deep within her pocket, nor identifying the voice on the phone when they greeted her by her name.

“Oh, hey Steve, what’s going on?  Is everything all right?”

She’d given Steve Rogers her personal number after a particularly dry teacher’s meeting six months ago, when they had been assigned seats right next to each other.  Spending thirty minutes behind a propped up binder, making faces at the obnoxious high school vice principal who spat when he talked wasn’t the most conventional way to make a new friend, but there it was.

“I’m doing well,” Steve said, in a way that told Jane he wasn’t doing that well.  “I just uh… I was hoping you could do me a favor?”

He must have stopped and re-started his story five times in the next few minutes.  His fraying nerves saw him sidetracked by every little thing, such as the atmosphere of the movie theater being just the right balance of fun and intimacy that he was looking for and how he’d heard that from a good friend of his who had way more experience with women than Steve did.  Jane nodded along, giving ‘yeahs’ and ‘uh-huhs’ wherever needed.  He seemed to be edging closer to explaining that favor.  Meanwhile, just outside on the Grecian style veranda, Loki was edging closer to Natasha Barton’s dance with her husband.  Though Mr. Barton looked like he’d rather have a root canal than let Loki anywhere near his wife, Mrs. Barton gave him a peck on the lips and went off with her client.  As Loki spun her around and dipped her—his hands just high enough on her hips to avoid being indecent—Steve’s voice buzzed in Jane’s head like a horde of droning bees. 

“So can you come?  I could really use the support.”  There was tapping on the other end, like Steve was messing with the cord to give his hands something to do.  Had she been paying close attention, Jane would’ve found it very funny that he was so worked up over Peggy.  There wasn’t a woman in the school who wouldn’t kill to be in Ms. Carter’s shoes, and all the girls in Jane’s class dreamed of Coach Rogers being their Prince Charming.

“I think I’ll be free,” Jane said, moving the phone from one hand to the other.  She spun around to watch the front door instead of Loki.  “But if you don’t mind me saying, I’m surprised that you’re this nervous about asking someone out.  You must have done it before.”

“Well, the last time I tried, I was in eighth grade, and I got laughed at.”

“ _You_ did?”

“She said she didn’t date short guys.  I was kind of a late bloomer.  Besides, it’s different now.  Peggy is… different.  I don’t know how to describe it.  I just want to do this right. Bucky told me that it’s all about timing, but if I get nervous, I might miss my mark or mess up and say the wrong thing.  I thought if I had some friends with me, I’d feel more at ease.”

Jane was happy that he’d chosen to call her now instead of waiting for Monday.  She’d have a hard time stifling a grin if they were together.  He was just the sweetest man in the world.

“Okay, I will definitely be there,” she said.

“Thanks, Jane.  I really appreciate it.”

They hung up after one more confirmation of the date and time: this Friday at seven thirty, at the movie theater two miles out.  Jane could bring someone else if she wanted.  Steve’s friend, Bucky, would be there, and Peggy might bring someone as well.  So long as she could ditch Coulson again and keep all Lokisons off her back, everything would be fine.  She definitely wasn’t going to let the kids get any ideas about installing a wide screen in her apartment or buying out the theater and renaming it for her.  At this point, she wouldn’t put anything past them or their father.

Speaking of their father, he had disappeared from the dance floor when Jane cautioned another look.  Mrs. Barton had returned to her husband’s side.  They were drinking cocktails and talking.  Jane wasn’t proficient at reading lips, but she thought she saw Loki’s name on Mr. Barton’s a couple of times.  Never in a very nice context if Mrs. Barton’s frequent eye-rolling meant anything.

She felt a presence behind her, like a shadow on her back.  She didn’t jump; she was getting used to him and his entrances.

“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting,” he said

“Hey, you want to dance with your lawyer, dance with your lawyer,” she said.  “No skin off my nose.”

“Did I neglect to ask you before I saw to Natasha?  How foolish of me.”

His regretful tone couldn’t have been faker, but when his very real hand clasped around hers and led her outside, she could almost believe he was sincere.  They stepped onto the deck, where the noise from inside was muted and replaced by up tempo classical music played by an honest to God chamber orchestra set up on the wide spanning lawn that lead to the swimming pool.  Though not much of a music person herself, Jane was pretty sure she’d seen the conductor in some PBS special on the New York Philharmonic.

“You really went all out,” she said.

“My father hired the band if that’s what you mean,” Loki said.  “He thinks I need more culture at my get-togethers.  I think they’re rather ostentatious myself.”

Said the man who lived in a castle.

He nodded to the conductor, who tipped his non-existent hat and lead the players in a rousing rendition of… something that was probably very well-known to those who weren’t borderline tone deaf.  To Jane, they might as well have been playing the same song as before.  She put one hand on Loki’s waist, knowing at least enough about ballroom dancing to get that right.  The steps were another story.  What started as Loki taking the lead soon devolved into Loki dragging Jane along on skidding feet.  The few times Jane tried to follow him, her foot inevitably landed on his toes and he winced.  She was content after that to just let him pull her.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Jane looked up, slightly startled.  When was the last time she heard anyone say that?

“I was just wondering if I went up to the roof, would I find a helicopter pad,” she said.

“Unfortunately, that would have left no room for the private planetarium.”

Jane’s eyes bugged out.

“I am joking, of course.”

Of course.  What else could she have expected?  Jane gave him a healthy dose of the stink eye anyway.

“We do in fact have a helicopter pad, but it’s rarely put to use.  Noise pollution and all that.  We are far out of the way from town, but sadly, not that far.”

“What a tragedy.”  Jane nearly tripped as Loki’s feet went one way and hers the other.  She pitched forward, clutching him around the waist to stay upright.  She refused to acknowledge the feel of his toned chest and stomach beneath his shirt and coughed up a storm to deflect.  “So, what were you and Mrs. Barton talking about?”

“Business matters,” Loki said vaguely.  “Every now and then, the time comes when we need to assume a purely professional relationship and forget our years of friendship.  A good lawyer maintains a rapport with her client, but also a good degree of objectivity.”

“Objectivity for you involves the tango.”

“I never said the time had come now.”

He gave her another spin.  This time Jane was prepared and he did not get to pretend that she was copping a feel again.

“Must be nice having a friend who’s a lawyer,” Jane said, the words themselves alien to her when formed into such a sentence.  Why was she still talking about this?

“Yes, we have known each other since college, when her name was still Romanov.  I didn’t know you found her so interesting, or I would have introduced you ages ago.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, and then right after bit down on her tongue.  That was the wrong thing say; that was just digging her in deeper.

“I figured as much,” he said like the cheeky bastard Jane now knew for sure he was.  He spun her one more time and she considered just letting go and leaving him hanging.  This stupid song had better be over soon.

“I didn’t mean it like _that_ either,” she said through grit teeth.

“Of course not,” Loki said with a dissatisfied hum.  “Now, what of that phone call of yours?”

It took a half second for Jane to process that.  She had been planning her escape route.  When she got away from him, she could leave the bracelet with a note in one of the kids’ rooms where it wouldn’t get lost-

“Wait, what?”  Jane narrowed her eyes.  “What does that have to do with anything?”

“With our previous conversation?  Absolutely nothing.” 

He held tight to her hands, so that when the next interchangeable song began, she had no choice but to fall into step with him again.  At least this time she didn’t trip.

“So why bother asking?”

“Curiosity, I suppose.  I wasn’t aware that you had a friend by the name of Steve.”

“Would you prefer if his name was Arthur?  Or Frank?  How about Phillip?”

“You misunderstand my meaning.”

“Do I?  Because it sounds like you’re accusing me of being jealous of your friend, only to turn right around and act jealous of mine.”

“I simply wish to know what you and Steve talked about.  Is that a crime?”

“It’s an invasion of privacy.”  He dipped her, lower than he had Mrs. Barton.  “But if you must know, Steve wanted to ask me if I was busy next Saturday.”

He looked like he’d smelled someone’s dirty foot, and Jane would be lying if she said she didn’t get a sick sort of thrill out of making _him_ sweat for a change.  She also had to pat herself on the back for her successful half-truth.  Let him comb every inch of the Tri-State area on Saturday, while she sat at home in her warm, fluffy bath robe with a tub of ice cream. 

“That was very nice of him,” he said, sounding more like a malfunctioning robot than a person. 

Jane almost felt bad for him, so she threw him a bone.

“He’s a very nice guy,” she said.  “Shy, too.  That’s why he needs all the support from his friends that he can get when he asks out his new crush.”

He blinked several times.  It was cute at first, and then it became hilarious.  Looking at Loki right now was like seeing a ten year old version of him, small and knobby-kneed and lacking self-possession.  That was assuming he hadn’t come out of the womb already dressed in Dolce and Gabbana, charming the nurses into bringing him a drink. 

“I… assume you refer to someone other than yourself?” he asked.

“Once again, ‘why do you care’?”

He squeezed her hand.

“That depends.  Why do you care about my friendship with Natasha?”

“Who said I did?  I don’t care about that at all.”

“You may say what you wish, but I see the truth in your eyes.”

She hoped he really did mean her eyes and not her ears.  For the past week, she’d become inordinately aware of them and how they jutted out of her hair if she didn’t part it correctly.  How their color seemed to fluctuate between normal flesh and a shade of bright pink depending on her mood.  She drew her hair around them, burying them under brown tresses.

“I _don’t_ care about Mrs. Barton,” she said, practically spitting every word in his face and hoping they sounded realer than her inner teenager said they did.

“That is fine,” he answered, emotionless.  “I do not care about Steve.”

“Fine.”

They parted one the opening notes of the orchestra’s next number.  It was like a godsend to Jane that he didn’t stay.  This song was slower than the rest and the sun was going down.  Couples young and old had walked onto the dance floor to enjoy the romantic setting.  Loki left her surrounded by them without so much as a goodbye, and she waited for him to go back inside, making absolutely certain that he wouldn’t come back.  Then she took a right away from the castle.  There was a tray of refreshments stretching as long as a football field and those jumbo shrimp cocktails had her name all over them.

(She was unofficially a guest now, so she might as well enjoy the perks.)

She took one from the as a waiter offered her champagne.  She sipped it slowly, her eyes drawn to the curly red head of Mrs. Barton.  In the arms of her husband, she looked serene and complete.  With Loki, it had been little more than a quasi-flirtatious game, albeit one both parties clearly took pleasure in playing.  With Mr. Barton, there was a sense of belonging, like they were made to stand on that dance floor and look at each other like no one else was around.

Would that everyone could find someone like that.

 _‘Instead you found a total nutjob,’_ said the responsible, sensible adult in her.

 _‘A filthy rich and sexy nutjob who’s totally into you,’_ preened her stupid teenage self who really needed to lay down and die already.

As her two selves battled for dominance, Mrs. Barton looked out in her direction, and Jane returned her polite smile with one of her own.  She still turned away to face the sky and grabbed another cocktail from the tray.

“My, my, save some room for dinner, dear.”  Frigga appeared in Jane’s peripheral vision, reaching for an olive to place in her tumbler.  “You won’t want to miss out on the chef’s foie gras, believe me.”

“Actually, I have to be leaving soon,” Jane said, putting down the empty glass.  “I’d like to stay, but I have a lot of tests to grade before Monday.”

“Oh, I see,” Frigga said, frowning.  “I’ll be sorry to miss you, but I hope you’ll come again soon.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Jane said through her teeth.  She checked the hair over her ears one more time.

“I assume you’ve conversed with my son as you intended?”

Jane hummed a yes, and then a jewel encrusted trinket in the bottom of her coat pocket snapped to the forefront of her mind.  It had been lost somewhere in the dredges ever since that dance.

 _‘No,’_ said the teenager, wagging a finger.  _‘You forgot when you saw him dance with that woman.  You forgot_ everything _when you saw that.’_

“I hate you,” Jane hissed.

“Did you say something?”

“Uh- nothing!  I mean… I didn’t get around to it yet, so I might have to wait until I see the kids on Monday.  It’s no big deal—“

“Well, if you like, I can deliver the message myself,” Frigga offered.  “Unless it’s something you think would be difficult to convey.”

Her ears must have been showing.  Jane smoothed her hair over them again and again until she must have looked like a head case.  If she did, Frigga was polite enough not to say it.  The same couldn’t be said for her husband, whom Jane now saw over Frigga’s shoulder, ignoring his drink and glaring at her.

“It’s really not,” Jane said.  She looked away from Odin, as if he would vanish if she could no longer see him.  “It was about something they gave me…”

She trailed off.  She no longer saw Frigga in front of her, and though some part of her dully knew how rude this was, she couldn’t stop staring at the window off to the right by the swimming pool.  Hela looked out, with Fenrir and Jormungandr roughhousing behind her.  She seemed utterly bored, whether because she hadn’t been invited to the cocktail hour or out of loneliness, Jane couldn’t say.  Hela locked eyes with her and instantly brightened.  She turned her head, calling for her brothers.  Two more heads poked out as the three of them waved to her, calling her name.  They kept it up long after Jane answered with weak wave back.  They never saw it coming when Loki appeared, his long black shadow stretched out on the far wall.  He grabbed Hela first, attacking her with a barrage of tickles to the stomach.  While Hela laughed and writhed, the boys made a show of trying to save her.  Their efforts got them ‘captured’ in turn, and the three were a happy, hysterical mess when it was over.  Loki was happy too, peaceful in a way Jane hadn’t thought him capable of; as if all the money and fine dinner parties in the world didn’t compare to time spent with his children.

“Jane?  Are you there?”

Frigga’s voice was laced with concern.  Jane turned, not too fast as to startle, and tried to find the words she’d been waiting all day to say.

“I just wanted to tell them,” she wrapped her hands around the lining of her jeans, biting her lip.  Her internal battle waged harder and fiercer than ever before.  “If you could just tell them… that their gift was beautiful, and I love it… and thank you very much.”

Jane’s inner teenager gave a whoop of triumph.

**

“Jane, I hate to say it—“

“Then don’t.”

“—but you are beyond up shit creek without a paddle now.  You’re in the rapids careening towards a fifty foot waterfall with sharp rocks at the bottom like the dude and the llama, and I’m pretty sure a shark ate your paddle.”

Darcy finished with a friendly pat on Jane’s arm and an also friendly swipe of her French fries and brownie, neither of which Jane was in the mood to eat.  The one bite left of her hamburger went into the garbage with her empty soda bottle, and as her stomach churned and the same cycle of upcoming previews played endlessly on the mounted TVs above them, she wondered if she should have just faked sick and stayed in bed all day.  If it were anyone other than Steve, she would done it with no regrets.

Seeing him now, she was glad he hadn’t.  While never without a smile and a good-natured jab for those he considered friends, Peggy seemed to bring out a side to Steve that didn’t have a clue what he was doing.  Like a newborn learning to walk for the first time, Steve had to navigate his way to true love through a world saturated with senseless lust and sex.

At least, according to Darcy.

Typically, Jane would take anything that girl said with a grain of salt (she still didn’t believe all that love at first sight stuff no matter who she was sitting with), but after Steve’s third accidental snapping of a plastic spoon, she was beginning to see from her friend’s point of view.

“It’s been a while since she went to freshen up,” he said.  He kept his fourth spoon on the table, having learned his lesson.  “That’s not bad, right?”

“Believe it or not, the whole cliché of woman sneaking out of bad dates through the bathroom window is bullshit,” said Darcy, ever so eloquently.  “For one thing, they’re too small.  For another, how are you, of all people, scared of getting stood up?  Do you own a mirror?  Do you seriously look at your reflection every morning and not want to break out into some Right Said Fred?”

Darcy shook her head, as if nothing in the world made sense anymore.  Jane watched a trailer for that blockbuster superhero movie coming out in May for the twelfth time and tried not to snicker at the thought of Steve or anyone else singing that song.  Loki came to her, and she decided that out of everyone she knew, he was the only one narcissistic enough to do something like that in complete seriousness.

She quirked a smile, which quickly dropped as she remembered that thinking about Loki was something she was trying to avoid.  Thinking about him meant thinking about that stupid bracelet in its stupid velvet box back home in her bottom drawer with that stupid matching necklace.  She’d had enough of that last Sunday, when the jeweler who lived two floors down suffered a minor heart attack after she asked him to check how much they were worth. 

And thinking about them meant thinking about why they had been given to her in the first place, which in turn meant thinking about those three precocious kids who’d gotten her into this whole mess, which brought her right back around to thinking about Loki.  No matter where she started, everything came back around full circle and Jane had no more answers than when she started.  The last thing she needed right now was to start it all again, so there could be no thinking about Loki.  Not even for one second.

When the superhero trailer ended, Peggy Carter returned.  A wispy cloud of perfume around her head had Darcy hacking up a hairball into her hood and Jane averting her eyes before they started to water.  She smelled vanilla.  She’d always hated vanilla flavored things. 

To her credit, Peggy exuded all the poise and elegance that she had ten minutes ago.  Her shoes clacked against the floor in even steps and her smile at Steve bespoke a secretive nature.  Was Jane not certain that said secret involved how much psyching up in front of the bathroom mirror she had to do before coming back out, she might have been envious of such grace.

“Sorry for making you all wait,” Peggy said, sitting back down next to Steve and looking only at him when she spoke.  He’d thoughtlessly draped his arm over her side of the booth in her absence, and didn’t seem to know how to move without being awkward.  Peggy didn’t seem to mind at all.

“I think you should apologize more to lover boy over here.  He’s been sweating bullets since you left.”

Steve choked, while Peggy’s cheeks turned an impressive shade of pink, Jane returned to her much safer forbidden Loki Odinson musings (at least there was no risk of anyone’s planet sized mouth revealing those), and Darcy just bit into her candy bar like her words had meant nothing.

“So, Steve, when is your friend getting here?” Jane asked. 

He gave her a glowing look of thanks. 

“He sent me a text a while back.  He’ll be here soon.”

“He should have been here twenty minutes ago,” said Darcy, tossing aside the empty wrapper.  “We’re going to miss the movie.”

“I can’t help it if he likes to be fashionably late,” said Steve.

“Or maybe I’m not late, you guys are just early.”

The speaker was a tall man in a leather jacket who walked in with a confident stride that turned several heads and earned a low whistle from Darcy.  He used the back entrance, away from Steve so that he had to crane his neck all the way around to confirm that the fifth member of their party had arrived at last.

“Early or not, I ate all the curly fries I was saving for you.”  Steve pushed aside the empty cardboard dish almost everyone had taken a sample from (Peggy didn’t care for greasy foods). 

“Oh, really, Steve?  You’re such an asshole.  I thought I meant more to you than that.”  The man placed a hand on his heart.  He wore a look of mock pain that segued into humor when Steve gave him a friendly shove. 

“True friendship is eating your bestie’s food when they’re not looking,” Darcy said in Jane’s ear while sneaking another handful of popcorn.

If she said any more, Jane didn’t hear it.  She barely caught the first thing out of her mouth.  Ever since Steve’s friend walked in, she had heard nothing and saw no one else.  She had been transported back in time, to the body of her eight year old self, standing behind a wall watching her parents greet the new boy the social worker had brought, still miffed that they’d accepted an older boy without asking her first, puffing out rosy cheeks when he shook her hand and told her she was cute for ‘just a little kid.’

Over a decade and a half had passed, yet she would know him anyway.  Time had aged him, as it does us all, from a snotty little boy to a handsome young man, but even now, Jane caught that familiar cocky gleam in his eye, while her own stung with unshed tears.

“James…”

Darcy glanced at her.  “You say something?”

Jane ignored her and stood.

“James,” she said, louder.

He looked up, surprised at the sound of his given name.  It took all of a second for recognition to dawn over him.  His mouth fell open and a sound like a squeak or a gasp issued forth.

“Jane?”  He approached her.  “Is that you?”

“Wait, what?” said Darcy.

She looked to Steve, who could give no answers.  Jane saw this over the edge of James’s shoulder as he made the first move, hauling her into his arms and spinning her a good foot off the ground.

“I can’t believe it,” he said. “I just can’t- is it really you, Jane?”

“Of course it’s me, who else?”  Jane could honestly say she felt better than she had in years.  She reached up to touch his cheek.  “God, you got so tall.”

“Yeah, and you didn’t.”

Her hand left his face to swat him on the chest, and he picked her up into another bear hug while everyone else, friend and stranger alike, stared at them like they’d each grown second heads.

“Okay, _can someone please tell me what’s going on here?”_

Darcy was on her feet, smoke pumping from her ears in that flustered way of someone knowingly locked out of the loop.  Jane kept one arm around James, afraid that if she let go, he’d disappear and this would’ve all just been a dream.

“Darcy, I told you my parents took care of foster kids, right?  This is James.  He was one of them.”

“We lived together for four years,” said James—really Bucky now when Jane thought about it.  “Right up until her parents died.”

Steve’s jaw dropped.  “Wait, this is _that_ Jane?”

“Oh, how exciting!” Peggy said, clapping her hands together.  “To think, after all these years apart, you’d reunite so unexpectedly.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”  Darcy said.  She walked a little bit away from the group, muttering to herself, _‘Why does everyone have hot guys flocking to them expect me?’_

As the moment passed and Jane and Bucky came down from their collective high, they sat around the table, no longer caring that the movie they’d paid to see started ten minutes ago.  Even Steve was mostly undaunted by the shifting in attention from his attempted wooing of his dream girl.

“Crazy how small the world is,” he said, throwing his arm back over Peggy’s side much to her amusement.

“You’re telling me,” said Bucky.  “This makes up for how crappy last week was for sure.”

“Oh, and what happened?” asked Jane.  “You’re not still stepping on everyone’s toes, are you?”

“Watch it, big mouth,” Bucky said playfully.  “And no, just the usual problems with idiots at work.  Oh, and then some big shot in a suit and a fancy car tried to run me off the road last Tuesday.  He even had the nerve to act like it was _my_ fault.  I swear, if I ever see that guy again, I’m going to hand him his ass.”

**Author's Note:**

> Next time: Saving Ms. Foster. Not everyone is rooting for Loki and Jane to get together.
> 
> Coming soon!


End file.
